“You are sure of this information?” he quizzed the mayor.
“We are certain,” nodded Ferde. “Some of the blacksmiths even verified their marks on the fake stars.”
“This is vital information,” frowned the First Minister. “I must bring this to the attention of the Katana’s Council right away. We are poised to attack Sakova because of this tragedy and the assassination, of course the assassination is reason enough, but the Council must be informed.”
“I have long wondered about the assassination,” Ferde mused as he grasped the opportunity to manipulate the conversation. “This Malafar owned the Academy of Magic. How is it we think he is Sakovan?”
The First Minister looked up in surprise, his mind still processing the implication of the Campanil attack. “The Academy of Magic was just a front,” he murmured. “He used the school to train Sakovan mages.”
“I heard that accusation,” noted the mayor, “but his father was also a Minister on the Council. Was his father a Sakovan as well?”
“Malafar’s father was a Minister?” echoed Larst. “I didn’t know that.”
“Minister of Agriculture before Calix,” nodded Ferde. “Both Malafar and Temiker were brought up in Okata. I didn’t think a Sakovan could actually penetrate the Katana’s Council. How did we finally find out he was Sakovan?”
First Minister Larst sat toying with a mustache for a long moment. “I am not sure of the evidence,” he admitted. “He has been labeled as a Sakovan for so long that I guess I never thought about it. Not that it matters much because he showed his true colors by assassinating the Katana.”
“With the coming war and the report I just gave you on Campanil,” Ferde persisted, “I think it makes a great deal of difference. If Malafar is not Sakovan, then we are being manipulated into this war. Who was it that accused Malafar of being Sakovan? Perhaps we can ask to see the documentary evidence.”
The First Minster’s face paled as he rose to his feet once more. “Why do I feel as though you already know the answer to that question?” posed Larst. “I told you that I did not want to go there, Ferde. I suggest you leave now.”
“Go where?” Ferde asked innocently. “I haven’t mentioned anything treasonous, have I? I thought we were discussing the possibility that someone was trying to send this country to war based upon false assumptions. Surely such talk is patriotic, not treasonous.”
Larst chewed on his lower lip as he stared at the Campanil Mayor before him. He realized now how Ferde had directed the conversation and, although the words had not been spoken, Larst now faced a dilemma of his own. He either stood by his love of his country or his sworn loyalty to the Katana. Finally, he seemed to make up his mind.
“This conversation never took place,” the First Minister instructed. “If you try to indicate that it did, I will destroy you. Am I clear?”
Ferde frowned and rose while nodding his head in agreement.
“Sit down,” commanded Larst. “Do you have any proof regarding his involvement?”
Ferde was shocked at the realization that he had finally gotten through to the First Minister. “I do,” he assured. “I have a man in custody who worked directly for him. His job was to attack the Academy, secure Malafar, and bring him to the Okata. He was also supposed to track down Temiker and Lyra, Malafar’s daughter. If anyone finds out that I have this man in custody, his life is forfeit.”
“A criminal’s word is hardly anything worth talking about,” sighed Larst.
“True,” agreed Ferde, “but if Malafar was brought to the city and placed in custody, he would have had to have been held at the mage cells and we would know who had him incarerated. That is something you can verify without arousing suspicion.”
“You must know that I will not do anything to dethrone Alazar,” Larst declared. “I will check the mage cells for his confinement, but the information will do little for us. It still doesn’t explain the assassination.”
“It does if Malafar was drugged over a long period of time,” suggested Ferde. “Have you ever heard of a drug called Quetara?”
Larst nodded solemnly. “Still there is nothing we can do,” he sighed. “I will not help overthrow a sitting Katana.”
“Nor I,” agreed Ferde. “That is why I have come to you. I do not know what to do. At least you can try to diffuse the war. Short of war, Alazar cannot do too much harm.”
“You underestimate the power of the Katana,” warned the First Minister. “He does not need Council approval for a war. The Sakovans are not the only enemy Alazar sees as a threat either. There have been rumblings and rumors of Khadora being the real enemy and the Sakovans being portrayed as merely a thorn to be plucked before turning our attention northward.”
“Two wars would devastate this country,” groaned Ferde. “What can we do?”
“There is nothing we can do without breaking our allegiance to the Katana,” summarized Larst. “I will never do so, no matter how he came into power. If we were to act against Alazar, the time for it was before he became Katana. We could hope that the Sakovans would remove him for us.”
“I fear that will not happen,” Ferde shook his head. “They have said as much and I agree with them. Oh they want to, but if the Sakovans were to assassinate another Katana, war would surely follow and war is not what they want.”
“You have spoken with Sakovans?” Larst exclaimed, his eyebrows rising in an arch. “What would prompt you to undertake such a dangerous path?”
“I did not undertake it,” explained the Mayor of Campanil. “They came to me in my bed one night. They slipped past the Imperial Guard and my personal bodyguards. They could easily have killed me and been gone without capture.”
“What did they want?” quizzed Larst.
“They wanted me to reopen the investigation,” answered Ferde. “They do not want war and they had discovered who had really set the fires, which they were being blamed for. They provided the facts and I independently verified them later. Everything they said I have proved to be true.”
“So you believe them?” inquired the First Minister.
“Absolutely,” responded Ferde. “I did not at first, but there is no longer any doubt. It was the Sakovans who supplied the watula for Campanil. They managed to sneak it past the army and conceal it on one of the burned farms. They did not need to do this to get me to check out their story. I believe they really cared about my people starving. I think we have much to learn about our neighbors in the interior.”
“It appears that our greatest threat is among our own people,” frowned Larst. “If the Sakovans will not remove Alazar then we are in for a rough road.”
Mayor Ferde nodded and rose to leave, but Minister Larst called softly to him. “Do not repeat this conversation with the other Ministers,” he cautioned. “Most are in Alazar’s camp and you will be tried for treason. I need not mention the interrogation that you will go through before you die.”
“This conversation never took place,” assured Ferde. “If I am caught, I will die with dignity. You will be safe. Besides, like yourself, I will not act against the Katana. I just wanted another patriot to know the truth.”
First Minister Larst watched him leave. He didn’t know whether to curse the Mayor or thank him for sharing the information. He felt better knowing the truth, but his inability to act would surely plague him the rest of his life.
***
Lyra slept fitfully, the fatigue of the day’s journey sending her promptly to sleep, but a sleep fraught with visions and images of centuries gone by. The dreams had been frequent since her anointment as the Star of Sakova and always portrayed the defining moments of the Sakovan civilization, but they varied as well. Each dream seemed to branch off in a new and exciting way to divulge more of the culture of the people she had been chosen to lead. Each morning she awoke with a feeling of being more Sakovan than the day before, although she often could not remember the details of the dreams.